


A More Perfect Union

by hapakitsune



Category: All-American Rejects, Bandom, Hush Sound
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-23
Updated: 2009-08-23
Packaged: 2018-03-29 20:52:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3910240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hapakitsune/pseuds/hapakitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From drug scandals to Constitutional amendments, Greta Salpeter is the person managing behind the scenes at the White House. As they seek to change America, Greta juggles career and personal life and finds that the two can coexist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A More Perfect Union

**Author's Note:**

> Repost from 2009

There’s a memo sitting on Greta’s desk when she comes into the office. It says:  
  
_Greta –_

_Bob found his new deputy. He’s coming in for an interview at ten a.m._

  
_-_ _Marshall_ _  
_  


_P.S. The Swedish Ambassador will be here at six p.m. Let the president know._

  
  
Greta sets her briefcase down in her seat and yells, “Audrey!” A moment later, her assistant comes in, pinning her bright pink hair up with a pencil. Greta sighs, a little exasperatedly. “I thought I told you that your hair needed to be a color found in nature.”  
  
Audrey shrugs, a small smile on her face. “My hairdresser was busy.”  
  
“You do your own hair,” Greta points out.  
  
“I was busy,” Audrey agrees serenely. “What is it?”  
  
“I have someone coming in at ten to interview for the job of Deputy Director of Communications.” She glances at her watch; it’s nine thirty. “Anything else I should know about?”  
  
“Dusty wants to talk to you about a story going round.” Audrey leans over and grabs a newspaper off Greta’s desk. “Someone leaked a story to the _Washington Times_.” She holds it out and Greta takes it warily. “It’s on the bottom half of the page.”  
  
Greta scans the front page and her eye catches on the headline in question.  
  


>   
>  **DRUG USERS IN THE WHITE HOUSE**  
>  _Alex DeLeon_  
>    
>  According to sources in the White House, several members of the current White House staff have had problems with drugs and alcohol in the past. It has even been alleged that one out of three members of the White House staff currently engages in substance abuse. When asked, Press Secretary Erin Matick refused to comment, saying only that these allegations would be addressed at her next briefing.  
>    
>  This is just the newest in a series of scandals to plague the fledgling administration. Allegations of fraud, embezzlement, and corruption have dogged their footsteps ever since the President assumed office upon the death of President Bridges…[ _continued on A5_ ]

  
Greta growls, folding the paper back up and clenching it in her fist. “Let’s go talk to Dusty,” she says, resigned. Audrey obediently falls into step behind her as Greta stalks back out into the bullpen and down the hall to Dusty’s office. Dusty’s assistant, Cassadee, leaps to her feet from her chair in the hall when she sees Greta.

“Oh my God, did you see the paper this morning?” she moans, wringing her hands. “This is awful! What -”

“Calm down, Cass,” Audrey says, reaching a hand out to force Cassadee back into her seat. She nods at Greta, who opens the door to Dusty’s office. The sign on the door says Erin Matick, but mostly everyone calls her Dusty, including the press corps. Greta’s known her now for five years, and she’s never seen Dusty look as upset as she does now. Greta silently closes the door behind her before turning to face the desk. Dusty’s hair is in complete disarray, her eyes shadowed, and she looks like she hasn’t slept in a year. She goes to stand when Greta comes in, but Greta waves her down.

“I’m guessing this is what you wanted to talk about?” Greta says, lifting up the newspaper. She sits down across from Dusty and crosses her legs, smoothing the hem of her dress over her knees. “Do you know anything?”

“Not yet, but I’m guessing they got it from someone in Personnel. Someone with access to the files.” Dusty rubs her eyes. “Who do you think they’re going after?”

“Take your pick, but if I had to guess, I’d say it’s Travis.” Greta consults her watch. Nine forty. “I’ll have Marshall take care of it.”

“What should I say?” Dusty asks, opening her desk drawer and pulling out a pad of paper. “What do I tell them at the briefing today?”

“Tell them that we’ve launched an internal investigation into the allegations, but that we have every faith in our employees. We just want to reassure the public that they have nothing to worry about.” Greta sits back and frowns. “I’m guessing they have an external source, too. Probably from a rehab clinic.”

“All right. We need to go talk to Travis, then.” Dusty gets to her feet. “And you probably should talk to Bob.” Greta leads the way out into the hall as Dusty asks, “So why do you think they’re going after Travis?”

“He’s the legal counsel and the conservatives know we’re going for the equal rights bill in the State of the Union address. If they can manage to discredit the person deciding whether or not the bill is unconstitutional -”

“- then they can discredit the whole bill.” Dusty groans and palms her forehead. “Things were so much easier before Bridges died.”

“They’re trying to discredit 

Representative Way, as well,” puts in Audrey from behind them. They turn to look at her and she shrugs. “People often forget that he was in rehab for alcoholism before he became a rep.”

“And he’s one of the main forces behind the bill. Fuck.” Greta slumps and rubs the junction between her neck and shoulder. “Do you know if the President has read this article yet?”

“We’ll find out later,” Dusty says grimly as they round the corner towards Bob’s office. “I’m going to go talk to some people, see if I can find out anything about the leak.”

“All right, see you later.” Dusty peels away from them and heads down the hall, Cassadee following silently in her wake. Greta glares at Audrey until she backs off; then she knocks on Bob’s door.

“Come in,” he calls and Greta pushes the door open. He looks up and hurries to his feet when he sees who it is. She shakes her head.

“Sit down, I’m just coming in to ask you a couple things.” She sits down across from him. “Did you see the _Times_ today?”

“Unfortunately.” Bob glances down at his desk. “Do I need to worry yet?”

“We don’t need a speech yet, but we might.” Greta glances at her watch again. “Dusty and I are thinking they’re going after Travis.”

Bob nods thoughtfully. “Crude, but effective,” he remarks. “I’ll have something prepped for the President in case anything else happens.”

“Thanks.” Greta gets up to leave, then stops, looking back at him. “So, this Crawford kid – you liked him?”

Bob smiles. “Yeah. He seems like a good kid. Young, but talented. Check out his résumé; there’s someone you know on it.”

Greta raises her eyebrows at him, but smiles. “Sure,” she says, “okay.”

Audrey’s waiting outside, arms crossed. “You know,” she drawls as they head back to Greta’s office, “if you wanted to flirt with Mr. Morris, all you had to do was say so.”

Greta pushes down a faint hint of disgust – dating Bob would be like dating her brother – and raises her eyebrows at her assistant. “Remember that I can fire you and find a replacement as easily as I could exchange a pair of shoes.”

Audrey rolls her eyes and goes to her desk. “You would never,” she says confidently. “You like me too much.”

“I miss the days when that threat would frighten you,” Greta mutters loudly, and shuts her office door as Audrey starts to laugh.

*****

  
One of the things Greta doesn’t particularly like about being Chief of Staff is that everyone treats her like an authority. Which, technically, she is, but she’d rather be able to just _talk_ to them like she used to. Sometimes she misses being in Congress; then Spencer, or William, or Gerard will call her up to complain about something that happened in committee and she’ll be a little grateful that she was pulled out to work in the West Wing.

She’s pretty sure that’s why she keeps Audrey around, though, because Audrey treats everyone – except maybe the President – with thinly veiled contempt that hides her deep affection for all of them.

Audrey calls Greta from the phone on her desk out in the bullpen to say, “Your ten o’clock has arrived and he is _cute_.”

Greta rolls her eyes and says, “Stop leering at the new kid and send him in.” A moment later, a grinning Audrey ushers in a young man with crazy curly hair. Greta stands and offers her hand, which he takes in a firm, decided handshake.

“Ian Crawford, ma’am,” he says. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Same to you. Have a seat, why don’t you? And it’s Greta, Ms. Salpeter if you’re a stickler for formality, but never ma’am.” She sits down in her chair and looks at Audrey, who’s hovering at the door. “You can go, Audrey.”

Audrey flicks her fingers dismissively at Greta, but closes the door. Greta glances down at the files someone – probably Marshall – had dropped on her desk. “I see you did poli sci and went on to law school?”

Ian nods earnestly. “UC Berkeley and Harvard.”

“Good schools.” Greta scans down and spots the bit that Bob had mentioned. She smiles slightly. “And I see you worked for Senator Dutton.” She sets the file down and folds her hands, meeting his eyes squarely. To his credit, he doesn’t squirm or even flinch; he just meets her eyes evenly. “Why do you want to work for the President?”

It’s an important question. When President Bridges had died, everyone was unsure about what was going to happen, and the new president had kept on many of Bridges former staff members, despite Greta’s objections. Greta had been, for a while, the only hand-picked member of the staff, until some disgruntled members of the staff, unused to the new president’s way of doing things, had issued a statement revealing their lack of confidence in the president. Greta was finally allowed her way, after that, and the first thing she always checks is that the person she is about to hire actually _wants_ to work for the president.

“Honestly?” Ian asks, eyes curious Greta nods, but doesn’t speak. Ian sighs and leans forward. “I worked with Alex Marshall on Senator Dutton’s campaign a few years back. He called me when Mr. Faller resigned and told me to apply. Plus, I greatly admire the new president and working under Bob Morris would be one of the greatest honors of my life. He’s a wonderful speech writer.”

Greta smiles. “All right. I respect your honesty.” She picks up the letter from Senator Dutton and skims it quickly. “Thomas says you were an invaluable member of his staff and he’s sorry to see you go. I trust his opinion. If Bob likes you – and he says he does – then I have no reason to object.” She stands and he follows suit. She offers her hand again and clasps his hand lightly. “Congratulations, Mr. Crawford. You are the new Deputy Director of Communications.”

“Really? Thank you so much!” He shakes her hand enthusiastically, beaming. The door to Greta’s office opens and Marshall comes in, head buried in a file.

“Greta, I -” He breaks off when he looks up, seeing Ian. “Ian! You got the job?”

“I got the job,” Ian confirms and they smile dopily at each other. Greta blinks, then starts to grin as she realizes what’s going on.

“Marshall,” she says, startling the pair out of their lovesick gazes. “Why don’t you give Ian a tour?”

Marshall blinks and turns to stare at her. “Don’t we have work to do?”

“We’ll worry about that later. For now, show Ian around, introduce him to people.” Greta shoos them out of her office. “Go, go. I need to talk to some folks about this article.”

“Call me if anything comes up,” Marshall says before taking Ian’s arm and leading him down the hall. Greta grins and grabs her coat.

“I’m heading over to the Counsel’s office!” she calls to Audrey. “Call me if anything comes up!”

“Be back before Dusty talks to the press,” Audrey says, typing away at her computer. “And 

Representative Way called, he wants to have lunch.”

“Call him back, tell him I’ll meet him in my office at noon.” Greta checks her watch. “I’ll need to talk to the President before Dusty makes her statement about the drug investigation.”

“I’ll let Katie and Hanna know.” Audrey waves her hand dismissively. “Go, go. I can take care of it.”

Greta nods and heads down the hall towards the attorneys’ office.

Travis opens the door at Greta’s knock. “I thought I might be seeing you,” he says wryly and he opens the door wider to let her in.

Greta sees that Katy, Travis’s fiancée, is sitting on the chair normally occupied by Margaret Cho. “Hey, Katy,” she says resignedly.

“You can’t honestly be considering firing Travis for this,” Katy growls, eyes narrowing. “You knew his history when you hired him, you know he’s clean. Just because some dirt-bag, snot-nosed reporter dug up the story -”

Greta holds her hands up placatingly. “Relax, Katy. I’m not here to fire him.”

Katy frowns, confusion creeping over her pretty face. “Then why are you here?”

“I just need to talk to him about what he wants to say.” She turns to look at Travis, who’s been quiet during the whole exchange. “We have to say something in response. Marshall is going to be investigating every member of the White House staff and we suspect that you’re the target of these allegations.”

“That’s what I thought.” Travis moves around to sit behind his desk. He folds his hands and sighs. “I guess I’d better say something. It’s better coming from me than from a subpoena of Marshall’s findings.” He eyes Greta thoughtfully. “Who do you think leaked the information?”

“Had to have been someone in Personnel, no one else has records of your rehab.” Greta cocks her head to the side, mentally running over the possibilities. “I don’t think it was anyone actually from the center; there’s too much potential backlash for them."

Travis nods pensively. “I’ll call your office when I have a statement drafted. We’ll have Bob look it over.”

“Probably best to wait a few days after Dusty makes her announcement.” Greta stands up. “If you have any problems, let me. Be sure to steer clear of the press until you make your announcement, okay? Good to see you again, Katy.”

Katy doesn’t reply, her blue eyes flinty. Katy, for all her bubbly public persona, is one of the fiercest defenders of privacy in the country. A professor of gender studies at George Washington University, she regularly testifies before Congress on all matter of issues. She’s a major key to the equal rights bill and Greta knows better than to get on her bad side. She decides to cut her losses and head back to her office before things get any worse.

She manages to get some work done back at the office, touching base with various supporters and going over the president’s schedule for the next month. Before she knows it, it’s lunchtime already and Audrey’s opening the door.

“

Gerard Way’s here for lunch,” she says, raising her eyebrows. “Ready?”

“Yes, hold on.” Greta made a note in her planner regarding the meeting with the Swedish ambassador and stood, smoothing her dress. “Tell him I’ll be out in a second.”

When she emerges from her office, she finds 

Gerard Way sitting on a chair outside, looking much the same as he had the last time they’d met. He looks up when he hears the door close and rises to take her hand.

“Greta, you’ve certainly risen in the world,” he remarks with a friendly smile. She leans forward to peck his cheek.

“I’m not sure if it’s more or less stressful than being in Congress,” she confesses. “Hello, sweetie. How’s Bandit and Lindsey?”

“They’re both doing fine. Bandit’s sixteen now, can you believe it?” Gerard shakes his head, looking amazed. “It’s hard to believe sometimes, it seems like she was born only yesterday.”

There’s a smudge of ink to the side of Gerard nose. Greta sighs and pulls out the handkerchief she’s taken to keeping in her jacket pocket. She grabs his hand, towing him in her wake before she ducks into the bathroom to damp the corner. “Were you drawing again?” she asks when she returns, gesturing for him to lean in. She scrubs the smudge off his pale skin.

“Yes,” Gerard admits shyly. “I was thinking.”

Greta drops her hand and tucks the handkerchief back into her jacket. “I guess you read the article, then.”

“Who hasn’t?” He falls into step beside her as she heads for the exit. He fumbles in his pockets briefly, then produces a pack of cigarettes. “Can you throw these out for me?”

Greta takes a look at them and pockets them instead. She catches his look and she shrugs, smiling slightly. “I know someone in the vice president’s office who smokes these.”

He ducks his head to hide a grin. “Would it, by any chance, be Mike Kennerty?” he suggests, eyes twinkling. “I know you had a crush on him when he came out to D.C. -”

“Yes, please,” Greta says dryly, “let’s go over my embarrassing crushes on people I work with.” They step outside and she hails a cab, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Remember, I know a hell of a lot about you.” She slides into the cab before he has a chance to answer.

 

 

They have lunch at a discreet café, where Gerard orders a cup of coffee to go with his salad. “We’ve been working hard on this bill,” he says after he takes the first gulp. “But I don’t think it’s going to go anywhere.”

“I know,” Greta sighs. “I’ve been saying this ever since it was first proposed.”

Gerard nods sadly. “And I’ve been trying to whip up support, but it’s hard. Unless we can get some sort of widespread recognition of this bill’s importance – if we can make it clear what it’s meant to do -”

“We’ll have to try a lot harder, then,” Greta points out. She leans back in her chair and looks at him thoughtfully. “How are you?”

Gerard shrugs, the very picture of nonchalant, but his foot is jittering nervously. “I’m all right, I suppose.”

“Do you think you can handle the press?” she asks him. “We’re pretty sure the article wasn’t going after you, but I’m pretty sure the issue will be brought up now.”

“I figured.” Gerard tilts his head. “You think they were going after Travis?”

“Most likely. I don’t think our opponents will miss the chance to bring up your former missteps, though.” Greta toys with her fork thoughtfully. “We’ll need to tread lightly for the time being.”

“I think we should get the old gang together for dinner in a couple days, to go over what the strategy is.” Gerard takes another sip of coffee. “I know you’re kind of supposed to be apart from the politics, but -”

“No, I understand. Besides, it’s a major part of the president’s political agenda. I would be remiss if I didn’t at least take a look at what you’re planning.” Greta checks her watch. “I should get back to the office. I need to be back before Dusty makes her statement to the press.”

“Sure, of course. I’ve got a meeting with some researchers in half an hour.” Gerard stands and says, “Wanna just walk back?”

Greta nods and throws down a few bills on the table to cover their bill. The air is crisp; Washington is cold in late October and Greta wishes she had one of the scarves Ryan had given her for her birthday. Gerard turns up the corner of his coat and sniffs wetly.

“Have you spoken to the president about the article yet?” he inquires curiously, rubbing at his face with the hem of his sleeve.

Greta winces at the reminder. “Not yet. I’m dreading it. I’m sure the president will burst into my office at some point and demand to know what I’m doing about this.”

Gerard tries to hide a grin and mostly fails. “You’re still a little intimidated?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I am!” Greta flails a little, flustered. “I’m not used to having this much power or having so many people rely on me.”

Gerard shakes his head and says, “I think you’re doing a good job, Greta. Keep your chin up.”

Greta rolls her eyes, but decides to take his advice.

*****

  
“Marshall,” she says when she comes into the bullpen. Marshall is leaning against the door to Ian’s new office, a silly grin on his face while he plays with his father’s dog tags. Marshall’s father was killed on tour of duty in Bosnia when Marshall was an infant. He doesn’t like to talk about it, but he wears the dog tags around his neck at all times, even when he has to dress nicely for state dinners.

He looks up, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. “Hey Greta,” he says, sounding a little guilty. “Did you have work for me?”

“Actually, yes.” She jerks her head towards her office. “We’ll need to have some privacy.”

Marshall straightens, frowning. He follows her in and hovers by the doorway, locking his hands behind his back. “What is it?”

“I really hate that I have to ask you this, Marshall, but the allegations made in the papers make it necessary.” Greta sits down behind her desk and pulls out a notepad. “I need you to investigate all the personnel in the West Wing so that we can make a full report on the veracity of their claims.”

“I understand,” Marshall murmurs. He pulls out his iphone and makes a note. “This is gonna make me really popular around here.”

“I know this sucks and normally I’d do it myself, but I’m embroiled in trying to convince the president to hire more new blood rather than keeping Bridges’ people around as well as a number of other unpleasant things.” Greta takes a pen and uses it to wind up her blonde girls on top of her head. “And I get the feeling this day is only going to get worse.”

Marshall nods and leaves, shutting the door behind her. Greta kneads her temples, then picks up the phone.

*****

  
Audrey pokes her head into Greta’s office half an hour before the press briefing and says, “Uh, the president wants to see all of you in the Oval Office. Now.”

“Fuck,” Greta mutters under her breath. She scrubs a hand across her face and mutters, “Okay, okay. I’m coming.”

Audrey is clearly trying to suppress a smile as Greta walks past her into the hall. She heads for the Oval Office and opens the door to find all the senior staff already sitting there.

The president looks up and smiles. "Ah, Greta, good. I understand you have deployed Marshall to investigate the claims of drug abuse?"

"Indeed." She smiles at President Palmer, who quirks one thin eyebrow at her. "I am sorry that we didn't brief you as soon as we got the news."

Amanda waves her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I trust you to have it under control. I just wanted to ask you and Dusty what you've been doing."

Dusty sits forward on her sofa cushion. "I called up the editor but he won't tell me who leaked the story. Confidentiality and all. Bob and I drafted a preliminary statement for today and we’ll determine what else is to come once we have more information on these claims.”

“I suppose they were going after Travis and Gerard,” Amanda says wisely. She smoothes down the fabric of her slacks and leans back in her seat. “Did you speak to them?”

“Travis is prepared to make a statement about his previous involvement with drugs,” Greta announces. “He also thinks it was someone in personnel who found his file. I doubt it will affect Gerard too much, but I think he’s ready to make a response if anything is brought up.”

“Excellent. Greta, go liaise with the vice-president’s office to be sure they’re up to speed with what’s going on.” Amanda has a devilish glint in her eye as she says this; Greta sometimes thinks the president knows her all too well. Amanda turns to Bob and says, “Could you read me your statement?”

*****

  
Amanda Palmer was, for many years, a little-known city mayor in Massachusetts until she suddenly made campaign for governor and promptly became nationally recognized for her fierce defense of gay marriage. People were shocked when Thomas Bridges had asked her to be his running-mate and even more shocked when she accepted. Many people thought that the conservativeness of Bridges had been tempered by Amanda’s strong liberal beliefs, which was why he won the election.

Bridges unexpectedly suffered stroke two and half years into his first term, dying after three days in the hospital. Though some people – mostly conspiracy theorists and those on the far, far right – accused Amanda of foul play, a medical investigation found that he’d died of natural causes. Once sworn into office, Amanda selected Oklahoma representative Tyson Ritter to be her vice president.

Greta sometimes suspects this was done just to spite her, though she knows it was because Tyson was more moderate than Amanda and could possibly balance out the whole first-female-president thing. On the other hand, Amanda also knew of Greta’s hugely embarrassing crush on Mike Kennerty and Greta wouldn’t put it past Amanda to have engineered the whole thing. Greta had met Mike a few times while she and Tyson were in Congress and every time he was unfailingly charming and pleasant. She made the mistake of mentioning it to Amanda, who got a speculative glint in her eye.

*****

  
“Greta!” Nick Wheeler, Tyson’s chief of staff, is effusive and buoyant as she enters his office. “What can I do you for?”

“Did you read the _Times_ today?” she inquires, sitting down in one the seats in front of his desk. Nick’s face falls and he nods, looking resigned.

“Unfortunately. Where do they get off, publishing shit like that?” Nick makes an indignant noise and pulls out a pad of paper. “I’ve already talked to a few people around our end to double check. I’m guessing you’re investigating it as well?”

Greta rips off the top sheet, folding it up so it fits in her jacket pocket. “I assigned Alex Marshall to investigate it. Was there anyone on your end they could have been specifically targeted?”

Nick shrugs. “Not that I know of, but I will admit that I don’t know everyone about the staff. I sincerely hope that none of them are a problem. Did you figure out who they were after?”

“We think we did, but we can’t be sure.” Greta checks her watch. “Dusty will be making her statement soon. Want to watch?”

“Yeah, hold up, I’ll call the others.” Nick picks up his phone and hits a few buttons, talking in a quiet voice. Greta takes the opportunity to smooth out the piece of paper he’d given her, checking over the list. Kennerty and Gaylor – Director of Communications and Press Secretary, respectively – were both cleared, as she knew they would be, and their secretaries Demi and Selena were cleared as well.

Nick hangs up the phone and a moment later, Chris Gaylor flings the door open, dropping down into the other empty seat. “Greta!” he exclaims happily. “Your beautiful face will never fail to light up my day.”

“You are a cad, Chris Gaylor,” Greta says, affecting an English accent the way Ryland does.

“I happily accept that label,” Chris murmurs comfortably, tipping his seat back onto two legs. “I hear that there’s some terrible rumors flying around.”

“Which is why you’re here,” Nick intervenes, flicking the television on. Dusty’s face comes into focus as she answers some questions about the Swedish ambassador’s arrival.

There’s a quiet knocking at Nick’s doorframe and Mike Kennerty slides in, eyes on the television screen. “Dusty’s making a statement?”

“Yeah. Hey Greta, why don’t you scoot over so Mikey can share your seat?” Chris suggests, waggling his eyebrows. Greta glares at him, trying to keep herself from blushing too obviously but pretty much failing. She obediently scoots over and Mike sits down, his arm bumping against hers.

“Dusty,” one of the reporters on screen says, “do you have any response to the claims made by the _Times_ regarding drug use in the White House?”

Dusty takes a deep breath and smiles. “As of yet, there is no evidence to indicate that any member of the White House staff is currently using drugs other than those prescribed by a doctor. However, our Deputy Chief of Staff Alex Marshall will be investigating these claims. The results of his investigation will be made public once the investigation is complete. For the time being, however, I must yield to White House Counsel Travis McCoy.”

She steps aside, letting Travis take the podium. He clears his throat a little awkwardly and says, “I never intended to hide my past, but I also did not feel that it was relevant to my current position. In my teens and early twenties, I was addiction to prescription medication due to my chronic insomnia and deep depression. I spent six months in a rehabilitation center prior to enrolling in law school. I have been clean and sober for more than ten years, but if this is what the _Times_ was referring to, I wished to make it abundantly clear that it’s in my past and will not affect my job performance. Thank you.”

He steps away from the mic and the reporters explode into questions. Greta lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“That went well,” Nick remarks, sounding surprised. Chris grunts.

Mike rubs his hands together thoughtfully. “I’m guessing we might have to make a statement about our area,” he mutters under his breath. He glances at Greta. “Pass along the information you get from Marshall, especially if any of it concerns us.”

Greta nods, then remembers the cigarette pack in her pocket. She pulls it out and hands it to him. “May help with the stress.”

Mike turns them over in his hands carefully and smiles sidelong at her. “Thanks,” he says softly.

*****

  
The fervor over the drug accusations dies down after a week and only resurges briefly after Marshall issues his report, which found no evidence of current drug use among members of the White House staff. That’s pretty much the end of story aside from a few editorials calling for Travis’s resignation, which aren’t given much attention and blow past most people. Greta puts in a little effort to find who was responsible for the leak, and unearths a young woman from personnel whose mother abused prescription medication. When it comes time for Greta to fire the girl, though, Greta can’t quite bring herself to do it.

“Why’d you do it?” Greta asks when the girl comes into her office.

“I’m sorry,” Leighton says miserably, hanging her head. “I just saw the file and – my mom, she was never very reliable when she was on -”

Greta holds up her hand to stop her and Leighton falls silent. “I’m not going to fire you, Ms. Meester. I just want you to know that you could have severely damaged the integrity of this office and destroyed Travis’s career. On the other hand, you did what you thought was right and I can’t blame you for that.”

“I can stay?” Leighton asks incredulously. “You’re going to let me stay?”

“As long as you promise not divulge any more confidential information. If you do again, I will not be so lenient.” Greta raises her eyebrows at Leighton. “I won’t tell anyone it was you. But just know that I have my eye on you.”

“Yes ma’am,” Leighton says softly. Greta lets the _ma’am_ go for the time being. “I _am_ sorry. I didn’t realize it would be such a big deal.”

“Everything’s a big deal when you work for the president.” Greta stands and says, “Good day, Ms. Meester.”

It’s around Christmas time that Greta decides she hates the second half of the year. There’s so much going on between October and January that she feels like she’s going to tear her hair out from frustration and stress. Her usual Friday evening drinks with the staff are replaced with ensuring that everything is ready for Thanksgiving, for Christmas, for Amanda’s vacation with the first gentlemen and the children. Bob and Ian are embroiled in writing the State of the Union, constantly brainstorming with each other or the president, occasionally even asking the first gentleman for advice. 

She’s in the office late on Christmas Eve, looking over the list that had been drawn up for those attending the State of the Union. A knock at the door startles her out of her concentration and she looks up to see Mike Kennerty leaning against the door to her office. 

“Hey,” he says, smiling slightly. “I thought you might still be here. You work far too hard.” 

“It’s important work,” Greta points out, but she puts down her pen. “Did you want something?” 

“Let’s go get a drink,” he suggests. “It’s Christmas Eve, surely you can take a break for a night.” His smile warms as he takes a step further inside. “Come on. You can do that later.” 

Greta looks at her desk, covered in papers, then decides to hell with it. “You’re right,” she says, standing and grabbing her coat. “Let’s go.” 

Outside, the air is incredibly cold; Greta’s breath puffing out in front of her. She knots the silky scarf Ryan Ross had given her around her neck and tucks her hands deep into her pockets, looking sidelong at Mikey. “So what are you doing for Christmas?” she asks curiously. “Not going home to visit your folks?” 

Mike shakes his head. “Can’t. I’ve been putting together a comprehensive package to address any questions that might come our way following the State of the Union.” 

“You’ve been conferring with Bob and Ian, then?” Greta almost slips on a patch of icy sidewalk and Mike catches her elbow to keep her from falling. His hand is a pleasant pressure on her upper arm and she feels bereft when he releases her. “Thanks.” 

Mike smiles at her. “Can’t have you hurting yourself,” he teases. “You practically run the place.” 

“Somehow I think the president might disagree with that,” Greta replies dryly. 

“I know for a fact she would vigorously agree with me,” Mike says serenely. “She adores and respects you, Greta. She wouldn’t have appointed you Chief of Staff otherwise.” 

“She was my TA in college,” Greta says, though she’s pretty sure that Mike already knows this. “She was the one who told me to become an activist.” 

“It was a good move.” Mike grins at her. “You were a good politician. Do you regret leaving?” 

Greta snorts. “Times like this, hell yeah. I didn’t do so much planning when I was in the House, I had other people to do it for me.” She falls silent, listening to the quiet crunch of snow under her boots. “Then again,” she says slowly, “sometimes I talk to the people I knew in Congress and they complain about all the nonsense that goes on. Those times I’m glad I’m out of the fray.” 

“You gonna quit after Amanda’s out of office?” Mike inquires curiously. 

Greta shrugs; she has given it some thought, but hasn’t actually come to any decision. “Amanda is adored by much of the left, and even some moderates. On the other hand, she’s extremely controversial. You know what they like to pick on – her marriage, her lack of traditionalism, her friends. When they discovered she was friends with Brian Viglione, they would _not_ let it rest.” 

Mike nods in acknowledgement. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do if Tyson decides to retire from politics. Maybe find a job with someone else.” 

Greta smiles sidelong at him. “You’re a talented guy, I think you’ll find something to do.” 

Greta almost trips again when he smiles back at her.

*****

The bar Mike chooses is one Greta’s been to before with the rest of the staff. She says hi to the bartender, an extraordinarily handsome guy named Alfred. He grins back at her, asking, “Usual, Miss Greta?”

“Go for it,” Greta says, sliding onto a barstool. Mike takes the seat next to her, raising his eyebrows. 

“Come here often?” he inquires. The dim light casts his face further into shadow, accentuating his stubble. 

“Sometimes we get kicked out of all of the others,” Greta jokes with a grin. 

They end up playing pool until the bar closes and Alfred kicks them out. Once outside, Mike offers to walk her home. Neither of them lives particularly far from the White House, and the walk is short. When they arrive at Greta’s apartment building, they stand huddled in the doorway for a long moment, neither quite saying anything. Before she can think of doing otherwise, Greta leans up on her tiptoes and presses a quick kiss to the corner of Mike’s mouth. 

“Thanks for tonight,” she says quietly and she goes to open her door, but Mike closes his hand around her wrist, gently. 

She turns, startled, only to meet his mouth. He kisses her gently, chastely, and then releases her wrist. “Merry Christmas, Greta,” he says, smiling. He walks down the steps, whistling, and Greta is left staring at his retreating back in the moonlight.

*****

Greta doesn’t see Mike for a few weeks after that, first going over to Bob’s for her annual Christmas dinner, then returning to work to finalize the State of the Union preparations. Audrey, as it turns out, was behind it all.

“I told him in passing you were staying late,” she says breezily after Greta asks how she knows Mike came to see her. Audrey had been making suggestive remarks for two days and Greta had only just then put the pieces together. “So how was it? Did you guys make hot, sexy love?” 

“We had a nice night,” Greta says evasively and she shuts the door to her office firmly. Of course, it’s all around the staff by lunch and Ian and Marshall break into her office to decorate it with _Congratulations!_ banners. She returns from a planning lunch with Katie, Amanda’s aide, to find the two of them sitting on her desk, Ian holding a guitar.

“This one’s for you, Greta,” Marshall promises brightly and they begin to sing _So This Is Love_. 

“I can fire you,” Greta reminds them, but the threat is somewhat dulled by the fact that she’s laughing so hard she can hardly stand. 

Mike emails her later, asking, _is there any reason I was just cornered by Bob Morris and ordered to treat you nice?_

She replies, _People on Capitol Hill are all secretly teenaged girls. Gossip is the way of life._

When she returns from a talk with Amanda, he’s replied, _You can tell all of them that my intentions are honorable_.

*****

A week and a half before the State of the Union, she meets with her comrades from her days in Congress for dinner. Pete gives her a huge hug and says, “We miss your sarcastic remarks, Greta.”

Spencer Smith nods to her as she takes the seat next to him. William and Gabe are locked in a quiet discussion, their heads bent close together. Gerard is doodling on one of his many pocket-sized sketchpads, frowning slightly. 

“I heard you got caught passing notes in committee,” Pete says loudly to Gabe, dropping himself into his seat. Gabe jerks up and grins wickedly, his eyes sparkling. 

William groans and palms his forehead. “Sometimes I wish the rest of you were in Senate simply so that his insanity would be directed elsewhere,” he moans unhappily. Gabe punches his shoulder lightly. 

“It wasn’t so bad,” he says cheerfully. “Andrew McMahon wanted to know what we were talking about and then Al told us we should flirt on our own time.” 

“Yes, because we really need more of those rumors floating around,” William says acidly, but a smile is playing at the corner of his mouth. 

Greta’s never been entirely sure what the exact nature of William and Gabe’s relationship is. William is divorced, with a teenaged daughter, but Gabe is a perpetual bachelor, never settling with anyone long enough to make an impression. They spend a great deal of time together, even more than is strictly necessary for their job. 

Spencer is even more of an enigma; for as long as Greta has known him, he has never dated anyone. Brendon, his chief of staff, once wryly remarked that Spencer was married to his work, which seems rather accurate to her. She is about to ply Spencer for information about his own life when Gabe decides to shift the conversation towards Greta. 

“Scuttlebutt has it that Miss Greta here went out for drinks with – wait for it – Mike Kennerty.” Gabe leers at her and Greta drops her head into her hands. 

“I hate everyone I work with,” she announces loudly, to the amusement of everyone else. 

They get to the point of the dinner as they’re waiting for dessert, sipping coffee or tea, depending on preference. Pete has become serious, his eyes half-lidded with tipsiness and exhaustion, but his words are perfectly clear. “I understand that you’re going to bring up the equal rights bill in the speech?” 

Greta nods. “It was one of her major points, always. The fact that it’s in Congress means she will have to remark on it and we think it’s time for her to throw her support behind it.” 

Pete and Spencer exchange glances, and then Spencer leans forward. “Listen, Greta,” he says, “you know full well that this isn’t a law. It’s an amendment, or should be.” 

Greta winces; it’s a debate she’s been having with people for years now, and thus far nothing has come of it. “I know. I just don’t think it will fly with the majority of the public.” 

“I don’t know,” William puts in. He adjusts his glasses and props his chin on his elbow. “This generation is much more in favor of the rights secured in this act than the previous ones. I think it’s quite possible that it could pass.” 

“Bill and I could lean on the Senate, if it comes to that,” Gabe puts in. “And if we have some sort of national campaign to gain support, it could pass.” 

“Or it could get completely shot down,” Greta points out. “If we write the law based on the concept of equal protection -” 

“But that point has been debated for more than a decade,” Gerard says, his voice quiet. “I agree that it’s valid, but the Supreme Court might not.” 

Greta holds up her hands. “I don’t disagree with you guys, I’m just playing Devil’s Advocate.” 

“Do you think you can have her say something, though? To indicate that she is in favor of a Constitutional amendment to legalize gay marriage and offer full protection to all minorities and women, as well as gays?” Spencer is painfully earnest sometimes, though he’s perhaps the most cynical of anyone at the table, including Pete, who just likes to pretend that he’s jaded. “I know it’s a tough sell -” 

“I’ll talk to her,” Greta interrupts. She looks around at all of them and smiles. “We have our first female president. She’s fairly popular despite all her – well, you know President Palmer. If that’s possible, I don’t see why this should be such a stretch.” 

Pete whooped loudly, startling several of the other dinner parties in the restaurant.

*****

“Have you given the first gentleman his speech?” Greta asks Ian, panicked. It’s half an hour before the president goes before the joint session of Congress and she’s freaking out over her checklist.

“He wrote his own,” Ian says. He holds up his hand before Greta can start yelling and reassures her, “I checked it over. It’s fine. And you know Neil writes good speeches.” 

Greta lets out a breath; Neil does, indeed, write good speeches, as well he should. He is, in fact, a bestselling author. “I’m just nervous. This is our first State of the Union.” 

“I know,” Ian assures her. “And I know we’ll be fine.” He puts an arm around her shoulder and guides her into her office. “Bob is with the president now, going over the speech. Marshall is corralling the staff. Dusty is talking with reporters. Everything is under control. Now go change into that pretty dress I know you have hanging on the back of your door and we’ll be ready to go.” 

Greta takes a deep breath. “Thank you, Ian,” she says once she’s got herself under control. “Now shoo, I’ve got to change.” 

Ian bows out obediently and shuts the door behind her. Greta breathes in deep a few more times, calming herself, then shimmies out of her work clothes.

*****

She nearly starts crying during Amanda’s speech and only manages to hold back because Bob is standing next to her and _would_ make fun of her for the rest of her natural born life if she did. Amanda’s always been a good speaker; she puts a measure of passion into her voice that instill in her audience a sense of her really _meaning_ what she’s saying. Just as Greta’s somewhat recovered herself, Amanda gets to the part Greta’s been waiting for.

“One of the most sacred principles for this nation is equality. And we have overcome a great many prejudices over the years – we have freed the slaves, allowed free practice of religion, gave women the vote, elected a black president – yet there is a not insignificant segment of our population that is designated as lesser than the majority of us. 

“Some of you may know of the equal rights bill currently being discussed in the House. In it are provisions for gay marriage as well as the privileges that come with it, as well as demands for equal pay. I agree with these sentiments; however, I do not feel that a law is enough. We must make it clear to the world that we value equality of _all_. 

“I intend to see this bill made into a Constitutional amendment. For all that we claim that we are a land of freedom and equality, we keep members of our society silenced. We tell them they should be satisfied with civil unions, which are ‘equal’ to marriage. But let me tell you something; we abolished the concept of ‘separate but equal’ in 1954!” 

The crowd bursts into cheers and Greta has to leave the room for the rest of the speech so that the cameras don’t catch her crying.

*****

Neil catches her at the ball afterward. Greta has always liked Neil; there’s something soothing about his baritone voice, still tinged with the remnants of a British accent. “I’m very glad you convinced her to go with the amendment,” he says to Greta, smiling. “She has wanted it for a long time, but hearing you say she should helped her have to courage to do so.”

Greta flushes and ducks her head. “Amanda is strong enough,” she says quietly. “I’m sure she could have done it herself.” 

“Nevertheless.” Neil smiles again. “I cannot thank you enough for all you’ve done for her. I understand it must have been difficult to abruptly leave Congress as you did to work for Amanda. You’ve been an incredible boon.” He glances at the clock and winces. “I must go; I think I’m supposed to give a toast to our supporters before she arrives with her entourage.” 

Greta nods, trying to hide how his words had touched her, and he takes his leave. She hovers at the back of the ballroom; Dusty and Bob are no doubt speaking to reporters who are analyzing the speech. Ian and Marshall are sitting at a table together. They are sitting a little closer than they probably should be, but Greta has no desire to ruin their moment. 

A hand lands on her shoulder and she jumps. “It’s me, Mike,” a warm voice says by her ear and she turns towards the voice. 

“Oh, hi,” she says, a little breathlessly. “It’s you.” 

Mike grins. He’s wearing a tuxedo, which she’s never seen before. He looks remarkably dashing and well put together. “So we’re really pushing for that amendment?” 

“I guess so,” Greta agrees. “That okay on your end?” 

Mike shrugs. “Hell, Nick and Tyson have been waiting for it since they were teenagers,” and _oh._ Greta had never picked up on that before, but now that she knows, it’s easy to see. Everyone knows that the vice president is very close with his chief of staff, but it’s sort of meant to be that way. It’s not a position that goes to someone you don’t like, or trust. It goes to your dearest friend, who you’d trust with your life. 

“They’re not the only ones,” Greta jokes, nodding towards Marshall and Ian. Ian’s feeding Marshall a strawberry, not seeming to notice or care that they’re in public. 

“Would you care to dance?” Mike asks abruptly. They’d asked Adam Lambert to sing, which Greta knows was a deliberate statement on Amanda’s part. At the moment, it’s a slow, romantic song. 

Greta hesitates momentarily, then says, “Yes.”

*****

She wakes up the next morning lying next to Mike. He’s still asleep, hair falling across his forehead. She slides out of bed and tugs her dress back on before going to see what she can find in the kitchen.

It takes her almost ten minutes to figure out how to work the coffee machine and by that time, Mike has come out, wearing only boxers and a sweatshirt. He notices her look and grins sheepishly. “I never quite outgrew this phase,” he admits, plucking at the worn fabric of his sweatshirt. 

“We probably shouldn’t have done this,” Greta says as they eat breakfast – scrambled eggs for Mike, beans on toast for Greta. “We sort of work together. It could complicate things.” 

Mike shrugs carelessly. “I like complicated things. Plus, I’ve kind of had a thing for you for a while now. Ever since I saw you make a speech on C-Span a few years back. You were so – passionate. Sure of yourself. Beautiful.” 

Greta stares at him. “Really?” 

“Really,” Mike confirms, then says, “Mmmf!” as Greta pulls him in for a kiss.

*****

“You got laid!” Audrey crows when Greta finally gets to work, having stopped off at her apartment for a shower and a change of clothes. “I knew it! Was it wonderful? Did he whisper sweet words in your ear?”

Greta gives her a look that sends Audrey scrambling for her desk, and swings by Dusty’s office. “How are the numbers?” 

Dusty gives Greta thumbs up. “As of yet, really good. People are responding positively to the president’s stance on equal rights.” 

“Thank god,” Greta breathes. She slumps against the doorway to Dusty’s office and rubs her face. “I was really worried.” 

“You can stop being worried,” Dusty says, assuredly. “I think it’ll be smooth sailing from here.”

*****

About a month later, Greta comes into Dusty’s office and says, “Remember how you said the equal rights amendment would be smooth sailing?”

Dusty groans. “I take it you saw today’s _Times_?” 

Greta had. Audrey had dropped it on Greta’s desk before scurrying away to hide, probably in their IT department because Greta was utterly terrified of Nick Scimeca. The headline blared out at her, **REPRESENTATIVE SPENCER SMITH (D-NV) INVOLVED IN HOMOSEXUAL AFFAIR**. 

“Have you confirmed it?” Greta asks Dusty, dropping into seat across from her. 

“Yes,” Dusty sighs. “Spencer said the story is accurate. Why did they have to dig up his personal life?” 

“Because if they can make out like he has a personal stake in the whole thing, they possibly have a shot at making him look selfish? Additionally, they want to try and discredit him with his constituents.” Greta shakes her head. “But I bet we can spin this to our advantage.” 

“How?” Dusty demands. 

“If Spencer makes an impassioned enough speech, one that makes clear how important this is, not just for him but for others like him, it could make some people see clearly.” 

Dusty ponders this for a moment. “Hmm. That could be so. He already said he’s planning on making a statement day after tomorrow. Do you want me to call him?” 

“Yes, please,” Greta says. She scoops up the newspaper. “In the meantime, I’m going to talk to the reporter. This is the fourth time he’s written something like this.” 

“Be nice,” Dusty warns, but her expression is dark.

*****

The article isn’t all that explicit; it simply reveals a few expense accounts along with some eyewitness reports and a few no-doubt illegally obtained photos of Spencer and Brendon. Greta, however, is more interested by the byline. Once again, Alex DeLeon is credited, this time along with the editor of the paper. Greta grinds her teeth and resolves to have a word with the reporter.

She calls up the _Times_ and says, “May I speak to Alex DeLeon?” 

“I’m sorry, but he no longer works here,” the receptionist replies matter-of-factly and the line goes dead. Greta frowns and spends several minutes with google tracking him down. She finally finds him and calls his house phone. 

He picks up on the second ring. “Hello?” he says cautiously. He sounds horribly young and nervous. Greta revises her approach and decides to step softly. 

“Alex DeLeon? This is Greta Salpeter, with the White House.” 

“Oh god,” the kid moans, sounding terrified. “Are you going to arrest me for treason?” 

Greta blinks. “Uh,” she says, “no. Why, have you revealed state secrets?” 

“I guess not,” Alex says after a brief pause. “What can I help you with, then? I’ve been receiving calls all morning and I’m afraid to leave my apartment.” 

“I want you to meet me for coffee in half an hour,” Greta says. “Nothing bad, I promise.” She lists off an address and hangs up after he confirms that he’ll be there.

*****

Alex is there before she is; he’s little, with a big mane of curly hair – not quite a fro like Ian’s – and a nervous grin.

“Hi,” he says when Greta sits down across from him. “Am I in trouble?” 

“You no longer work for the _Times_?” Greta asks without preamble. Alex shakes his head. 

“I discovered the story on accident,” he explains guiltily. “I didn’t really want to write it. I only ever did what the editor told me. Information came to me and he’d make me write about it, probably because he knows I like the president.” 

“So you quit,” Greta says, taking a guess. 

“I told a co-worker about what I knew and he heard me!” Alex says miserably, slumping in his seat. “Initially, I’d thought that it would be a big story and I’d be famous, but Representative Smith made me change my mind.” 

Greta nods; Spencer can be incredibly… _persuasive_ at times. It’s one of his strongest attributes. “So he took the story from you and credited you.” 

“When I found out, I quit.” Alex rubs the bridge of his nose sadly. “Now I don’t know what I’m going to do.” 

Greta contemplates him for a moment. She’d taken fifteen minutes before she left to check out Alex’s résumé. It’s fairly impressive – a journalism graduate from Northwestern, with a specialization in Political Science. His previous employers had only good things to say about him and his instincts. “How would you like to be our media consultant?” she asks after a moment. “You’d tell us how to spin things, keep in touch with the media to a degree the press secretary can’t.” 

Alex gapes at her in astonishment, then flaps his arms helplessly. “You can’t be serious!” he squeaks. “After what I’ve done -” 

“I admit, I hadn’t intended on hiring you when I came here. I wanted to ask you what the hell was wrong with you. You invaded a congressman’s privacy and published his personal life in your newspaper like it was a goddamn tabloid. But now that I’ve met you, I think you’re a good kid. You just need a new job.” Greta eyes him speculatively. “And you have an impressive résumé. So, how ‘bout it?” 

“That – sounds good,” Alex admits after a moment. He looks at her worriedly. “Do you think everyone else will hate me?” 

“I sincerely hope not,” Greta says, “but I can’t promise anything.” She picks up the coffee the waitress had set on the table. “Come back to the office with me this afternoon, you can meet who you’ll be working with. You’ll start officially tomorrow, okay?” 

Alex smiles tremulously. “Yeah,” he says, “that sounds good.”

*****

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?” yells Cash Colligan, storming into her office early the next morning.

“You don’t even work here,” Greta says, not looking up from her laptop. “So I don’t know what you’re talking about and you’re probably better off complaining to your actual boss.” 

“But he’s not going to do anything about it because he _can’t_.” Cash slams his hands down on her desk. “You _hired_ Alex DeLeon?” 

“Yes and I fail to see how it’s any of your business.” Greta sighs and looks up. “Just because you have a grudge against him -” 

“He outed my boss to the whole damn world!” Cash shouts. “And then you go and _hire_ him? Do you see why maybe we might have a problem with this?” 

“We or _you_?” Greta asks, raising her eyebrows. “Because I don’t see Representative Smith kicking up such a fuss.” 

“He’s not like that and you know it,” Cash says mulishly. “He doesn’t hold grudges like that.” 

“That’s why he’s a good politician,” Greta mutters under her breath. She stands and beckons for Cash to follow her. “Come with me.” 

“Where are we going?” he asks, following her out into the hall. Greta ignores him and knocks on the door to Ian’s office. 

“Ian,” she calls. “Is the kid with you?” 

“Come in,” Ian calls back and she pushes the door open. Alex is perched on the edge of Ian’s desk, typing on a tiny laptop and talking a mile a minute. Ian grins at Greta and says, “Thank you for hiring this kid, he does half my job for me.” 

“Cash,” she says, “I want you to meet Alex DeLeon.” Alex looks up from his laptop, frowning. “Alex, Mr. Colligan works for Representative Smith.” 

Alex goes pale and he slides of the desk, already babbling apologies. “I didn’t want to publish the story, I’m so sorry! I hope that he’s doing all right is he mad at me? Oh god, you want to kill me, don’t you. I -” 

“Shut up,” Cash says harshly and he slumps, glaring at Greta. “You know I hate you, right, Greta? How am I supposed to hate him now?” 

“Kind of the point,” Greta says serenely. “Talk to you later.” She lets the door shut behind her. Audrey, working at her desk in the bullpen, shakes her head. 

“That was magnificent manipulation on your part,” Audrey pronounces. She gives Greta thumbs up. “Nice work.”

*****

Mike swings by her office before noon. “Hey,” he says, smiling. “How’s it going?”

“Hectically,” murmurs Greta, rubbing her eyes. Cash is still wandering around the West Wing. Apparently, Spencer had banished him for the day, so he had nothing better to do. “Lunch?” 

“Sure.” He takes her hand and helps her up. “Smith is making a statement tomorrow?” 

“Yeah.” She hooks her arm through his and leads him outside. “Cash Colligan wasn’t very happy that we hired Alex DeLeon.” 

“You actually did? I thought the secretaries were kidding.” Greta doesn’t blame him for wondering; Mike’s secretary, Travis Clark, is particularly notorious for pranks. “How is he working out so far?” 

“Ian really likes him,” Greta shrugs. Mike is steering them from their usual route to lunch. She frowns, confused. “Where are we going?” 

“I have a surprise for you,” Mike says, grinning. He wraps his arm around her shoulders and leads her to a patch of grass beneath a large tree. Travis Clark is spreading out a blanket underneath the tree. A wicker basket sits to the side. Greta gapes. 

“What’s this for?” she asks, raising her eyebrows at him. 

He shrugs and leans in to whisper something in Travis’s ear. Travis nods and leaves, grinning widely. “I dunno. Thought you might be a little stressed from all the recent drama, so I figured this might be some fun.” He sits cross-legged on the blanket and pats the fabric gently. “Sit, sit.” 

They eat the meal with a minimal of talking. It’s still pretty cold outside, but the snow is mostly all gone and it’s actually a pretty nice day. When she’s through eating, Greta lies back on the blanket. “Do you ever think about the future?” 

“Personal or political?” Mike asks, stretching out beside her. 

“Either.” 

Mike hums thoughtfully. “Well, I’d like to imagine that Amanda runs for two more terms. I’d like to imagine that she asks Tyson to remain as her vice president. That’s simple enough.” 

“What about for yourself?” Greta asks. “Do you ever wonder what’s in store for you?” 

“Yeah, of course I do.” Mike is quiet for a long moment. “I’d like to retire after Tyson’s through with his thing. Maybe write. Get married, have kids.” His pinkie brushes up against hers and he twines their fingers together. “Live out my life quietly. You?” 

“I used to think I’d go back to politics after Amanda was through. Now -” Greta breaks off and thinks for a moment. “Now, I’d rather just serve as an expert witness and maybe be an activist, like I used to. Teach, even.” 

Mike makes a thoughtful noise and squeezes her hand. They lie there in silence together for a while, listening to the quiet sounds of the city around them.

*****

Spencer makes his speech from the steps of Capitol Hill. Brendon is there, behind him, quiet and subdued. Greta watches from Dusty’s office in the West Wing, worrying at her nails.

“I have always sought to keep my political and personal lives separate. I don’t feel that it is necessary for the world to know who I love. However, I have been forced into this position where I must make some sort of statement. I wish I did not have to, because it involves possibly hurting someone I love.” 

Spencer visibly takes a deep breath. “I am a gay man. I came out to my family and friends at the age of twelve. I am fortunate that they accepted me and I have never failed to be grateful for their support. It was never a defining aspect of my life and I didn’t feel that anyone needed to know. 

“I met Brendon through a friend of a friend while I was in Las Vegas. I fell in love with him over time and we recently entered into a relationship. I have nothing to hide. I have always been vocal in my support for gay rights, so there is no hypocrisy here. The fact that people are concerned at all with this indicates a severe lack of focus. If I had been dating a woman, no one would have cared about my private life. The only reason the story even got printed was that I was dating a man. 

“If anything is to be taken from this unfortunate incident, I hope you realize that my love is no less valid than that of anyone else’s. Please support the amendment currently being debated in Congress and validate the lives of thousands of Americans who only want to be treated with the same decency as anyone else.” 

He steps away from the microphone and the reporters begin shouting. Spencer ignores them and wraps his arm around Brendon’s waist, leading him away, their heads bent closely together. 

Behind Greta, Dusty lets out a sigh of relief. “That went a lot better than I expected,” she says, voice loud in the quiet room. “What did you think?” 

“He’s brave,” Greta says, thoughtfully.

*****

The amendment passes through Congress with more than enough votes. Greta stops paying attention to it after that, knowing that if she looks at how many states have ratified it, she’ll worry herself to death.

She gets a call midway through April while she’s discussing possible election campaigns with Bob. “Hello?” 

“Greta, it’s Gerard.” He sounds slightly out of breath, but excited. “Greta, it passed. Nevada ratified it and that’s three-fourths.” 

Greta leans back in her seat, the breath going out of her. “We did it?” 

“We did it, Greta.” Gerard sounds deliriously happy. “We did it!” 

Greta hangs up and shouts, “It passed!”

*****

She finds Mike after the impromptu celebration in her office. Audrey had run out to buy a bottle of champagne upon hearing the news and Greta’s a little tipsy. She knocks on the door to his office.

“I heard it passed,” he says when he sees her. “Congratulations!” 

Greta knots her hands in his shirt and pulls him close for a kiss. When they part, breathless, she asks, “You want to go out on a real date? Like, a full out dinner and movie date?” 

Mike grins. “Greta, I’d love to.”

*****

Six weeks later, Greta comes into her office to find a copy of the _Times_ sitting on her desk. The headline reads, **PRESIDENT PALMER ANNOUNCES HER CANDIDACY**. Below that is a smaller article titled, **REPRESENTATIVE SMITH (D-NV) TO MARRY HIS CHIEF OF STAFF**. Next to it is a picture of Brendon and Spencer holding hands as they walk down a DC street.

Greta smiles and pins the front page to her wall.


End file.
